Feng Jiang turned his head to glance at Qiao Mu, nodded, then shifted his gaze to look out beyond the tent.

“So — you’re not so different from me either.”

This was the first time Feng Jiang had ever talked with anyone about matters of the heart, and yet he found himself surprisingly unguarded about it.

Qiao Mu, having just been startled awake from her dream, still had a somewhat dazed look in her eyes.

She stared at Feng Jiang without blinking, unsure of what to say.

Who would have guessed that such a dignified prince was actually adopted?

Sensing something unusual in the way she was looking at him, Feng Jiang turned to glance at her.

“Pity me?”

His lips curved faintly as he went on. “Father Emperor treats me just as he would his own son. You’re overthinking this.”

Qiao Mu blinked but still said nothing.

As for pity — she admitted there was some, but not so much that it should have been obvious at a glance.

Feng Jiang had mistaken Qiao Mu’s drowsy, sleep-heavy eyes for pity, when in truth there was far more sympathy in them than that. “Qiao Mu, don’t cry. I really don’t know how to comfort people, and besides, I really don’t—” “If you were truly his birth son, Jiu’er wouldn’t worry about you this much.”

Qiao Mu cut Feng Jiang off. “And another thing — I’m not crying.”

“I, Qiao Mu, don’t shed tears easily. I’m not like you.”

Even struck right at his sore spot with such a sharp remark, Feng Jiang’s expression barely changed.

“Wipe the tears from the corner of your eye before you talk to me like that — then maybe I’ll believe you.”

Feng Jiang’s voice came out with a note of amusement.

Only then did Qiao Mu realize the corner of her eye was indeed a little damp.

She quickly turned aside, putting her back to Feng Jiang, and grabbed the cloth beside her to keep wiping her face.

“I just — I just— Feng Jiang, what are you doing?”

When Qiao Mu turned back, she caught sight of Feng Jiang lying down right beside her.

“Resting for a while.”

Feng Jiang glanced at her once, then closed his eyes.

“You’re a man — is this really appropriate?”

Qiao Mu glared at him, all but ready to drag him up off the ground.

“It’s a bit cold outside. Isn’t it a bit of a waste for you to have a whole tent to yourself?”

Feng Jiang turned onto his side, his back to Qiao Mu. “By the way — do you like Yanu?”

“Feng Jiang, what are you saying?”

The moment she heard Yanu’s name, Qiao Mu’s face flushed red — she could no longer even spare a thought for the fact that a man was lying in her tent.

“It’s nothing — when I get back, I’ll see him and ask whether he likes you.”

Feng Jiang’s voice carried over.

“Don’t!”

Qiao Mu blurted this out before realizing she’d reacted far too anxiously. “I mean — what I mean is, there’s no such thing.”

“If you won’t go out, I will, at least—” “Don’t you want to know how Yanu is doing right now?”

Just as Qiao Mu was about to stand up, Feng Jiang’s voice continued.

“If I’m in a good mood, maybe I’ll write you a letter and share news of Yanu’s situation. What do you think?”

“That way you won’t have to spend every day thinking of him without knowing how he’s doing, right?”

Feng Jiang himself wasn’t sure why he had so much time to spare for this, but then again — as friends, it didn’t seem to matter much.

Qiao Mu looked at the man’s back beside her. She’d meant to get up, but now she no longer felt like it at all.

Yes — she truly did miss Yanu. Even just hearing news of him now and then, knowing he was still well, would be enough to satisfy her.

Qiao Mu said nothing, shifting her body, and lay back down as well.

“If it’s convenient for you, look after him a little.”

Feng Jiang’s lips lifted slightly, his expression carrying a note of pleasure — this, it seemed, was the Qiao Mu he recognized.

“Jiu’er will come back sooner or later. When that time comes, if you escort her back, you’ll be able to reunite with Yanu too.”

On that day — Feng Jiang hoped, too, that he wouldn’t have to wait too long himself.

“I will.”

Qiao Mu looked up at the top of the tent and nodded.

“If, by the time you’re ready to come back, Yanu has already started a family of his own — it would be best for Jiu’er to settle the matters of the Bei Mu Kingdom sooner rather than later.”

Feng Jiang said.

He understood clearly — this time, having been forced to leave, Jiu’er would need to make thorough preparations before she could return.

The road ahead was long and arduous, full of danger at every turn — truly no easy path.

If it were possible, he too wished he could walk away freely, just once, the way the woman beside him had.

Qiao Mu composed herself, her tone growing a touch heavier.

“He’s reached the age where he should be getting married.”

A pity, though — the person he would marry could never be her.

Qiao Mu wasn’t foolish enough to believe that Yanu liked her — it had all been nothing more than her own one-sided feelings.

“So — come back as soon as you can.”

Feng Jiang’s voice grew a little heavier too.

Perhaps, by the time Jiu’er returned, they might well stand on opposing sides — and yet he couldn’t help but still look forward to it.

One was the Fourth Imperial Uncle he respected most, the other the little sister he most wanted to cherish — why couldn’t the two of them walk the same path?

Feng Jiang’s heart was torn — he wanted to see Feng Jiu’er and Feng Li off to safety as quickly as possible, and yet he couldn’t bear to let them go.

Still, throughout the journey, he had shown no sign of displeasure at all.

The tent fell quiet for a moment, then Qiao Mu raised an eyebrow and asked softly, “If you care so much about Jiu’er, why can’t you leave together with us?”

“If it were you — could you abandon the father who raised you for over twenty years?”

Feng Jiang’s lips curved faintly, and he naturally settled his emotions back into place.

“I don’t want anything to happen to Jiu’er and Fourth Imperial Uncle, but of course, I can’t leave the Feng Clan either.”

“By the way — are you still afraid of rats?”

To keep the other from reading his mood, Feng Jiang changed the subject.

“You actually did quite well today. From now on, don’t be afraid anymore.”

“When was I ever afraid?”

Qiao Mu furrowed her brow.

Recalling the dream from just now, in the end she didn’t want to hide it either.

“Just a little. But I think I can get over it completely.”

“Give yourself some time. There’s nothing you can’t get over.”

Feng Jiang said.

“What about you, then? Why can’t you get over your fear of women?”

Qiao Mu rolled over, glancing at Feng Jiang.

Seeing no sign that he intended to turn over, she shifted her own body further, turning to face his broad back.

“By the way, Third Prince, I’m afraid of rats because I was bitten by one as a child. As for your fear of women — could it be that as a child you were also—” “Don’t talk nonsense.”

Feng Jiang cut Qiao Mu off. “I just find women troublesome — especially troublesome — that’s why I don’t want to take a wife or have children.”

“So you think both Jiu’er and I are very troublesome?”

This wasn’t the first time Qiao Mu had slept in close quarters with a man — she could accept this distance well enough.

For people like them, bandits of the mountains who took the sky as their blanket and the earth as their mat, this was nothing new — having a man lying beside her was hardly unusual at all.

It was just that the two of them being alone together in the same tent had taken her a little getting used to, that was all.

“You’re a bit troublesome, sure, but Jiu’er isn’t troublesome at all. Most of the time, she’s the one helping me out.”

Just as Qiao Mu was tempted to kick the man in front of her clear across the tent, Feng Jiang’s voice rose again.

“But it’s fine, really — at least I’m not afraid of you anymore.”

Sensing the thick killing intent radiating from behind him, Feng Jiang felt compelled to say something in his own defense.

“By the way, Jian Yi said you still haven’t eaten. There’s food outside — if you’re hungry, go have some. I’m going to rest a while.”

No sooner had he said this than Feng Jiang’s breathing settled into an even, steady rhythm.

Qiao Mu stared at the back of his head, frowning, and in the end swallowed down her irritation.